


hot snow llc

by thunderylee



Category: A.B.C.-Z, Snow Man (Japanese Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: There’s never a dull moment in this office, even in the off season.





	hot snow llc

One would think autumn would be the slow season for the heating, ventilation, and air-conditioning industry, but that just means there’s more down time for cross-training.

“Why do I even need to know this shit?” Watanabe Shouta asks, scrunching up his nose at the sea of numbers on the page in front of him. “I’m sales!”

“You should care about the bottom line,” Miyadate Ryota says flatly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “All those profits aren’t just going to your paycheck, you know.”

“This is ridiculous,” Iwamoto booms, shrugging off his fluorescent yellow safety vest as he storms in through the side door. “Every year those tools in HR send a bunch of white-collar idiots to infest my warehouse and fuck everything up. We all have our roles for a reason!”

“Hear, hear,” Watanabe agrees, holding up his fist, and Iwamoto pounds it with his own. “I’d rather count Z aisle than sit here and make sense out of Datte’s accounting babble.”

Miyadate looks like he wants to be offended, but shudders instead. “I’ve heard horror stories about Z aisle.”

“Wait for your turn in the cross-training Russian roulette,” Iwamoto tells him. “You’ll have _nightmares_ about Z aisle.”

“They can’t be any worse than the nightmares I already have about balance sheets,” Miyadate says, then turns to Watanabe with an evil grin. “Which is what we’re going over next!”

“I’m out of here,” Iwamoto says as he heads toward the door. “Spending too much time in the front office gives me a rash.”

“Are you sure that isn’t from one of your girlfriends?” Watanabe shoots back, and Iwamoto flashes him a steady middle finger before shrugging his vest back on and disappearing, the sounds of Korean rap fading as the door closes behind him.

Abe Ryohei shakes his head without pausing in his typing. “Are you sure you want to work here…what did you say your name was again?”

“Hashimoto,” the well-dressed man in the lobby answers with a smile, sitting tall and confident. “Hashimoto Ryosuke.”

“Hashimoto-san,” Abe says, flashing his best front desk smile. “No offense, but you look more suited to business sales than HVAC.”

“That’s what my experience is in,” Hashimoto tells him. “At least, as far as recruiting customers for my dad’s shop during the summers. He sells formalwear.”

A loud crash and a swear sounds from the warehouse, but neither Hashimoto nor Abe bat an eyelash.

“That explains the suit,” Abe comments, and Hashimoto’s chest puffs out like he’d just been complimented. “Usually Kawai-san requires at least a year of inside sales before he’ll even consider hiring someone.”

Hashimoto shrugs. “He said that with my face I can get anyone to throw money at me.”

That has Abe blinking. “Everyone has a talent, I suppose.”

“Abe-chan’s talents are making lists, like count sheets for the inventory extravaganza this weekend,” another voice speaks up, and Abe sits up straighter at the entrance of the company president. “We’re out of toilet paper, by the way.”

“Again?” Abe asks incredulously. “I just ordered a whole case last week!”

“Those warehouse guys are filthy pigs,” Kawai tells him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Next time order two. Are you ready for your first day, Hasshi?”

“Hasshi?” Abe repeats while Hashimoto nods and bounces a little like an overeager puppy.

“Abe-chan can call me ‘Hasshi’ too,” Hashimoto offers, and Abe’s too mesmerized at the way Hashimoto’s smile seems to gleam to care about his lack of honorifics.

Abe is the only one who gets out of cross-training, mostly because nobody else wants to cover the front desk while he’s away. Even Sakuma Daisuke, the office manager and Abe’s direct supervisor, just lets the phone ring until Miyadate reluctantly picks it up, and Totsuka Shouta is happy to jump up and greet walk-ins since it gives him a break from his advertising copywriting.

After the sixth time Abe had to try and explain the complicated organization of his desk to Sakuma over the phone while he was at home with the flu, he just straps on a surgical mask and stocks up on tissues. And he takes extra care to get his germs all over the paperwork, causing most of the company to be sick at the same time and indirectly leading to the need for cross-training.

“ _Fuck_ warehouse stocking,” Fukazawa Tatsuya scoffs as he rips off his safety vest and flings it dramatically across the room; it lands on Goseki Koichi’s desk, knocking over his spectacular paper clip robot. Nobody actually knows what Goseki does around here; Abe has only seen him deeply involved in solitaire. There was that one time under Kawai’s desk, but Abe tries not to remember that.

“It’s gross, isn’t it?” Watanabe greets his fellow sales team member. “I need like twenty showers after spending ten minutes out there.”

“Our HazMat training claims there should be a shower on the premises in case any of us make contact with hazardous liquids,” Miyadate offers.

“I’d rather count Z aisle than step foot in any warehouse shower,” Fukazawa mutters. “You ready for lunch, Nabesho?”

“Hell yes!” Watanabe all but yells, hopping up from his seat in glee. “It’s your turn to treat, right?”

Fukazawa’s nose wrinkles as he frowns. “I don’t think so.”

“We’re not done here,” Miyadate says sternly, but Watanabe and Fukazawa continue to argue over who’s paying as they leave the office.

Abe offers Miyadate an encouraging smile as he reaches for his next batch of files to alphabetize. Though it’s not in his job description, keeping up employee morale is beneficial to everyone, including him. Fukazawa and Watanabe aren’t usually in the office, so when they stop by they usually bring donuts that appease the savages for a while. Sometimes their vendors will bring in lunch for everyone, but other than that it’s the same old shit every day.

Except today, it seems, as the front door open and none other than Tsukada Ryoichi from human resources skips in. Tsukada’s low on the HR totem pole, despite being the most enthusiastic being on the planet, so he gets the jobs nobody wants to do like travelling to different locations and making sure everything’s up to code. (One would think that firing people would be the job nobody wants to do, but Sakuma and Iwamoto happily take care of that on their own.)

“Ah, Tsukada-san,” Abe greets him, standing up to bow politely. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Surprise inspection!” Tsukada announces, which gets the attention of everyone in the front office, and Abe hears Sakuma groan from his cubicle. “Don’t bother calling Hii-kun! I know my way to the shipping office.”

Abe watches in mild amusement as Tsukada grabs a safety vest from the rack by the warehouse door and throws it up in the air, spinning a little before perfectly receiving it over his arms. There are rumors that Tsukada comes from a circus family, but Abe’s never asked him about it directly.

“Who is Hii-kun?” Miyadate asks after Tsukada continues skipping out the warehouse door.

“Iwamoto, and I dare you to call him that,” Sakuma answers.

Without breaking eye contact with Sakuma, Miyadate picks up his CB radio and his voice booms through the warehouse. “Hii-kun, do you copy? _Hii~kun_ ~”

Muted boisterous laughter drifts through the closed door, and Abe cringes when the radio cackles. “Who the fuck are you calling—”

The air goes dead then, leading Abe to wonder whether someone physically snatched the radio from Iwamoto’s hand or if he saw Tsukada and stopped speaking abruptly.

“By the way, Tsukada from HR is on his way down,” Abe calls out to him, pleased with the snickers behind him.

They all expect it, but they still jump in various degrees when Iwamoto returns to the front office and glares at them all in turn. “You’re all going to hell.”

“No, _you_ are for upsetting my coffee,” Miyadate grumbles, and Abe turns around to see him shaking small brown drops out of his upside-down keyboard. “Now I have to ask IT for a new keyboard.”

“Who drinks coffee at 3pm?” Iwamoto barks, clearly wanting to take his wrath out on somebody whom he can intimidate.

“People who have to account for all the inventory your team damages,” Miyadate shoots back smoothly, and Iwamoto huffs in disappointment.

“Our IT guy is such a douchebag,” Sakuma announces. “I swear he sees my name and puts me at the bottom of the ticket queue.”

“I do,” someone speaks up, and everyone in the room turns to look at Goseki, who calmly clicks some buttons and smiles when the computer chimes that he won his solitaire game. “But I like Datte, so I’ll go grab you a keyboard.”

“Hey, thanks,” Miyadate says, looking as surprised as Abe feels as Goseki stands up and heads into the back room. “Did you guys know he’s IT?”

“No idea,” Sakuma replies. “Oops.”

“That explains a lot,” Abe comments, and the others nod.

“I’m not done with you, Abe-chan,” Iwamoto says, and Abe takes his time returning his attention up front. “Do you get off on humiliating me in public or something?”

“I don’t get off on anything,” Abe replies. “But if I did, I’d pick you first, _Hii-kun_.”

He flashes a kissy face at Iwamoto, who just rolls his eyes and mutters “I’m pretty sure backflipping down the aisles breaks some safety rule” as he returns to the mixture of forklift beeping and Kpop that Abe has come to associate with work. He had been shocked to learn that Iwamoto wasn’t actually Korean, not that he’d say that to his face. He does have _some_ decorum.

“He really likes you,” Sakuma says, and Abe beams as he finishes putting together incoming orders.

“Everyone likes me,” Abe declares, his grin widening at the snort and grunt of amusement behind him.

Watanabe and Fukazawa take an hour and a half lunch, but they bring back chips and queso for the office and nobody rats them out. The only person who would care is Tsukada anyway, and he’s too busy piggybacking on Iwamoto through the warehouse to check the top shelves since he’s not qualified to drive a high lift.

Goseki eventually returns with Miyadate’s new keyboard, which is clearly one that had just been sitting in the storage area with the other vintage computer parts, and Goseki attacks it with canned air and hooks it up without losing any of Miyadate’s data. Miyadate looks at him like a savior and Abe wants to laugh until he remembers walking in on Goseki under Kawai’s desk and realizing that hadn’t been what it looked like at all.

While he’s still dazed about that revelation, the man himself bursts through the warehouse door, Hashimoto in tow, and Abe cringes at the clashing of purple and red safety vests.

“Attention everyone!” Kawai yells into the radio; Sakuma calls back that he’s too loud. “You can clear your calendars for this weekend, because our new star Hasshi just conquered Z aisle.”

An eruption of cheers follows this announcement from both the warehouse and the front office, while Abe just stares at Hashimoto in awe. “How did you do all of that in just a couple hours?”

Hashimoto shrugs. “It’s just counting. I like the letter Z.”

Iwamoto trips over himself in his rush to push through the warehouse door and stares at Hashimoto like he’s the second coming of Jesus Christ himself. “You’re mine,” he claims. “I want you on my team.”

“He’s too pretty for warehouse work,” Watanabe says, slinging an arm around Hashimoto’s shoulders. “Iwamoto would eat him alive.”

Iwamoto grins like he’s taking that statement literally, and Abe shakes his head. People with those kinds of desires really amaze him sometimes.

“Are you sure you want him in sales?” Miyadate asks Kawai. “He is clearly destined for inventory management.”

“Can’t I do all of it?” Hashimoto asks brightly, and Kawai grins.

“Welcome to Hot Snow, LLC,” Kawai says, shaking Hashimoto’s hand vigorously.

“You need it, we blow it!” Totsuka pitches, his grin faltering at the sea of groans. “No?”

“I think it’s brilliant,” Hashimoto says, his eyes sparkling as he looks down at Totsuka. “Tottsu is a genius!”

Kawai’s already motioning for that to become their new slogan and Abe tries not to facepalm on his keyboard, because that’s how he’s going to have to answer the phones from now on.


End file.
